Eine andere Straße (An alternative road)
by Dorminchu
Summary: A collection of what-ifs based around various scenes from Attack on Titan. Not a pleasant series...for the most part. Also prone to spoilers throughout. You have been warned. :)
1. Act One

Eine andere Straße (An alternative road)

* * *

_Act One: __Gelegenheit (Opportunity)_

Training with someone the likes of Annie Löwenherz was often painful in the best of conditions. Today was no exception.

Eren Jaeger found himself skidding to a halt upon the earth. He wanted to protest, but the breath was knocked from his lungs. Instead he raised a hand, and she lowered the wooden oar she'd used to send him sprawling. He sat up, wincing.

"C-Can't you show some restraint?" He managed. The girl merely shrugged before replying:

"Same to you." Eren stared at her.

"What?"

"You come charging in with all your strength; I only meet you accordingly. And besides, you're a man, aren't you? Shouldn't _you _be more careful with this delicate body of mine?" Eren gave a snort of disbelief.

"Right. So how come I always end up flat on my back while you're still standing?" Annie paused, as if considering the point herself. Then she sighed.

"Well, the techniques I'm using are different from what they teach us here. I'm not using strength to throw you. These techniques are meant for when you're facing an opponent who's stronger than you." The oar fell to the grass with a muffled _thump_, and she resumed her traditional stance. "I don't suppose it'll hurt for you to learn them, too."

Eren shrugged. "Fine. Let's take a break first." Annie smirked at him, and he faltered. "Uh-"

All it took was that moment of indecision. One second she was advancing, the next, she'd landed a particularly painful blow to his stomach, then his shin. His legs flew out from underneath him as she flipped him over her, and his surroundings became a blur of indistinguishable color and sound and then-

He landed flat on his back two seconds later, and the impact was accompanied by a fresh wave of pain. Another bruise, probably.

"Annie-" He gasped; it was difficult to breathe properly with her arm locked tightly around his neck. "I-I think you've made your point!"

"Not yet." Her stranglehold abated just enough for him to cough, suck in much needed air. "Not until you learn how to use your strength..._and_ how to talk to girls."

Eren swore under his breath. "All right, just-just let me go!" There was a pause.

"...Oh." said Annie quietly, and the genuine surprise in her voice made him wonder what the hell he'd gotten himself into this time. "So you _want _to learn more?" The pressure on his chest lifted, and he coughed as she sat up beside him, watched her with a rising sense of trepidation in his stomach.

"Annie, wh-" He trailed off when she leant back over him; he couldn't recall her ever permitting herself to remain _this_ close for so long. His gaze flitted uncertainly in the direction of the other recruits, then back to her face. A faint smile graced her mouth.

"Fine," She muttered. "I'll demonstrate."

And before he could inquire as to what she meant, Annie kissed him.

Whatever Eren had been predicting, it certainly wasn't that, and the small part of his brain that still managed to function now pondered what he should be more taken aback by: the kiss itself or the unexpected gentleness of it.

It was over as quickly as it had happened, and as she pulled away he found himself struck by a dizziness that had nothing to do with the blood rushing to his head. He could hear the other recruits yelling excitedly about something. Annie tensed.

The last thing he remembered clearly was the subtle flush about her face as she looked up.

* * *

___If Mikasa had only taken several more seconds to notice the terrible danger presented to her brother; that danger being Annie going in for the smooch. XD_

_Based upon Attack on Titan - Chapter 44: Strike, Throw Submit. Or Punch, Lock Throw if you're reading the raw manga._

_Read and review!_


	2. Act Two

A/N: The idea for this particular chapter was inspired by the work of a fanfiction writer by the name of Euregatto, and her story, _My Past is a Graveyard and My Mind the Tomb_. It's pretty awesome!

You can check it out here (delete the spaces!): w w w . fan fiction . n e t (/) s/10085274/1/My-Past-is-a-Graveyard-and-My-Mind-the-Tomb

On with the main story!

* * *

_Act Two: Speicher (Memory)_

Mina Carolina lived in a Hell of her mind's invention. Hell's name was Trost.

Trost surrounded her in the blood soaked streets of her dreams, and these streets were packed wall to wall with bloated corpses decaying in the sun. Military, Garrison, ordinary civilians, it didn't matter. Their features were all the same, all made grotesquely clear in the brilliant light of day. Some of them rotted faster than others, revealing putrid muscle and hollow, yellowed eyes, twisted grimaces etched upon their sunken faces.

One corpse caught her eye, terribly familiar. When she gasped in horrified recognition, her lungs burned with the overwhelming stench of death.

Milius Zeramuski's decomposing face leered up at her. They regarded one another in silence.

When she couldn't bear to look at him any longer she glanced down at her hands, only to realize they were covered in blood. She tried to cry out but her throat was dry, and all she managed was a raspy whimper. The blood pooling at her feet coagulated. It slowly rose to her ankles, then her knees, soaking through her boots. It was hot. Hot and wet and _burning_ – and it came to her that it was not the sun that brought such unbearable heat.

_Thump._

A low pulse echoed off the walls, reverberating in the silence of the lifeless street. She couldn't move. The blood continued to rise as the streets turned dark, damp. The sunlight was fading into a dull, rusty orange.

_Thump._

And she realized that it was not _blood_ that she found herself submerged in (up to the waist now), but acid. The sun was as red as the melting flesh of the corpses around her. Presently, her skin began to melt as well.

_Thump._

But Mina never screamed; there was no point in screaming. Where there should have been unendurable agony, there was only emptiness.

_Thump-_

She woke with a strangled cry of two different names, neither of which formed properly on her tongue.

Nac. Thomas. Milius.

They were dying over and over again and she could never save them.

The delusions happened everywhere. She would turn a corner in the hall – Hell was unrelenting – and see one of them (Thomas?) leaning up against the wall at an unnatural angle, half of their face torn clean off, a death grin frozen upon their petrified features, and all she could do was stand there.

It went on like this for weeks; Mina eventually made it a point to avoid the others members of the Training Corps, because she couldn't bear the half-hearted pity on their faces when she passed them in the hallways. But she could never blame them; after all, they weren't the ones cowering before an empty wall, apologizing brokenly to someone who wasn't there.

One day the visions peaked.

It was the start of lunch. The day was uncomfortably warm; the sun shone white through the windows and the crack in the door. She had just sat down next to Annie at their usual table, but Mina couldn't muster the will to eat. A heavy silence hung in the air between them for ten, agonizing minutes before her friend broke the silence; she always seemed to break it first these days.

"You have to." Annie said firmly, and it was so strange hearing those words from _Annie_ of all people that Mina didn't reply. Instead, she looked down at her hands so she could pretend to ignore the unsettling expression on her friend's face.

Her breath stuck in her throat, because her hands-

Her hands were warm, slick with blood, gore caked thick beneath her fingernails. The acrid odor of rot came back to her.

She blinked, and Nac's dismembered torso was splayed across the table, clothes singed with acid, eyes wide. His skin was ghastly white, and the blood soaked flesh of his wrists served a gruesome contrast to the ashen, marred flesh, gouged right down to the bone-

Mina gagged, choked, fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit right then and there because she was supposed to have put this all behind her, but how could she put something like _this_ behind her-

"_Mina_." Annie said quietly, and she jolted, spun wildly from the scene before her the to the girl beside her. Her friend was regarding her as she'd never regarded her before; for the first time since Mina had known her there was an hint of something resembling remorse in her pale eyes. "It's over." Of course, Mina didn't understand what that meant, because Nac was dead, lying right _t__here _on the table. She looked back at her hands, still warm and wet and-

Clean.

Mina didn't speak. She couldn't. She could only stare fixedly at her perfectly _normal_ hands. Her face was still white, her breath eluded her.

"Oh, _God_." She mumbled. Annie's own hand curled slightly on the table, a few inches from her own.

"Again?" She asked, and Mina nodded shakily.

"I'm...f-fine." She muttered. Annie glanced at her, calculating.

"All right." Her hand unclenched, but she left it there.

They didn't talk again for the rest of the hour.

* * *

_If Mina had survived the battle for Trost, but only just._

This was totally experimental. Let me know what you thought! :D


	3. Act Three

_Act Three: Ausfall (Failure)_

"Armin."

The cannons had already reloaded. It was now or never. Armin stood up.

"I'll convince the Garrison." He said fiercely. "Don't try anything that'll provoke them." He fumbled with the maneuvering gear at his waist, and it fell to the ground with a muffled _clink_ of metal and leather. His sword followed as he ran to meet the group of waiting soldiers.

_We don't have time to figure this out. I'll have to think while I speak!_

"Stop!"

Armin halted and looked up at the man before him; Kitz Weilman, one of the commanders of the Garrison. Hoping against hope that this man was not as unreasonable as he appeared, he began:

"We wish to disclose our information, sir!" Kitz gave a shriek of nervous laughter.

"There's nothing left to discuss! We all saw what he's capable of!" The man motioned to the circle of armed soldiers surrounding them. "If you can prove his innocence, then show us now!"

"We don't need to show you anything!" Armin snapped. "You all saw him!" He turned to the Garrison members nearest him for support. "You saw how the other Titans tried to kill him, and how he fought them! They view him as _prey_!" A string of murmurs followed this proclamation, and for a moment Armin wondered, disbelievingly, if it really was going to be this easy to convince them.

And then Kitz burst out:

"_Enough_! The Titans have always acted beyond our understanding! We cannot allow this to interfere with our duty to these civilians!" He raised his arm, and the figures atop the wall returned the motion.

Armin whirled back to look at his companions, panic thundering in his chest. For a moment their eyes met his.

Eren nodded.

And wWithin that instant of mutual understanding, they heard Kitz scream the order: "_Fire_!" Armin could only watch as Eren raised a shaking hand to his mouth. Once more, the explosion of orange light flooded the courtyard, obscuring the situation from the trainees watching upon the rooftops.

Then the cannons went off.

A volley of shells rained down upon the target. A few of them sank into the ground upon impact, narrowly missing he and Mikasa in the process, but the others hit their mark with a succession of deafening _CRACKS_ as they tore through flesh and bone. All that could be heard was the raspy snarl of the injured Titan and the panicked cries of the Garrison below as the dust swirled around them. Armin lowered his arms from his face and squinted. He could just distinguish Mikasa and the massive shape of what he assumed was Eren's Titan. He began to make his way towards them, coughing.

"Mikasa!" He called. There was no response. Fear gripped at him. _Was she alright_? _Was Eren_? Precious seconds had passed, and the Garrison hadn't made any visible attempt to capture them. Now the dust was settling and he could see her, standing quite still. "What's-"

But the words died in his throat as he saw the look of horror upon her face, and he followed her gaze, comprehension dawning upon him.

Titans did not fare well under direct fire, and now they could see the extent of the damage the cannons had dealt.

Large chunks of flesh had been blown away, exposing withered muscle and charred bone. The creature's eyes were green but clouded, and a trickle of dark blood oozed from the corner of its jaw, steaming as it made contact with the blistered skin.

As they watched, the Titan swayed drunkenly for a few seconds, and then a low, agonized groan issued from its throat as it crashed to the ground.

It was disintegrating quickly. Armin rushed forward, but Mikasa got there first.

_One meter lengthwise, ten centimeters across-_

She stabbed her blade into the Titan's neck and wrenched it down; the skin, already weakened by the failed transformation, now parted easily. Without hesitation she plunged her arms up to the shoulder within the white - hot flesh with a shriek of pain, but still she pushed deeper, searching desperately for any sign of her brother even as her body continued to scream in protest.

Her fingers brushed something other than bloody muscle.

"_Armin_!" She shouted. "_Help me_!" He took a fistful of the creature's hair and used it to pull himself up, clambering over to her through the steam. In all the years he'd known her, Mikasa had never appeared as inconsolable as she did now. "He's still _in_ there!" She gasped, pale with exertion and indescribable agony. "Help me!"

Kitz was yelling orders that he could not hear. He watched Mikasa struggle to free her bloodied arms from the creature's nape and fumble with the sword at her hip. Before he could ask why, he felt hands close around his arms and yank him away from the dissolving shell, only to feel them slacken as a spurt of warmth hit his back, then weight slumped upon him. He yelped in surprise and pushed it off-

The dead man tumbled to the ground. Armin paled. "M-Mikasa?" He stammered, but she was busy dealing with the newest victim. He fell below, and his companion screamed in rage and attacked, only to fall shortly after him.

Distantly, Armin could hear a different voice shouting new, panicked orders, none of which he could make out. He turned to find Mikasa dragging Eren's unconscious body from the nape. "Eren!" He cried, and the appearance of his friend was enough to push the thought of additional Garrison coming to detain them from his mind.

She pulled her brother close to her, but he did not stir. This did not seem to faze her in the slightest as she slung him upon her shoulder.

"What are you-"

"Escaping," She said curtly. Armin gaped at her.

"Mikasa." He said weakly. "You can't fight them all off."

She cocked the gas gun at her waist and took aim. "I have to."

But Armin glanced nervously at the unconscious boy in her arms. "They'll kill you."

"So be it."

"No." He took her wrist. "We stay together." She affixed him with a particularly venemous glare.

"Eren _saved_ us."

"And I swear we'll do the same." said Armin fiercely. She held his gaze for a long moment, unflinching. And then she said:

"Then I'll believe you."

* * *

_If Armin had failed to convince the Garrison, and Eren had been forced to go with his original plan. Based upon Chapter 10: Where's the Left Arm?_

A/N: Hurrah, over three hundred views!

What happens next, I leave entirely up to you, dear readers.


End file.
